


Fraying at the Edges

by henriqua



Series: You (still) feel like home [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-10-01 19:18:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20377600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henriqua/pseuds/henriqua
Summary: Yuri knows that if Otabek decides to do something, no one can stop him; and Yuri wouldn’t even try to stop Otabek if he suddenly told him he’s going to move to Canada to get better at skating.And apparently he had told everyone he’s going to do just that - everyone, except Yuri.





	Fraying at the Edges

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 3 of my "DJ Otabek" series, but it doesn't necessarily require reading the previous parts.

It’s not quite summer yet, but the night in Almaty is warm when Yuri and Otabek meet up with the Kazakh skater’s friends outside a club located in the heart of the city. At the door they’re greeted by a familiar face, the bouncer’s serious expression changing into a wide smile when he recognizes Yuri.  
  
“Congratulations, my boys. You did well!” Yuri thanks him with a small laugh, not even trying to hide how much the bouncer’s broken Russian and warm words mean to him. The man shakes hands with him and Otabek before letting them in, telling them to have a fun night.  
  
The competitive season ended just a few weeks ago, and it’s the first time in months Yuri feels like he can smile and laugh freely. The season wasn’t easy for him: he suffered an ankle injury in the Grand Prix final, which resulted in badly executed programs in Euros. Somehow he managed to make a full recovery before Worlds where he skated to gold, and the medal definitely made up for his poor performances earlier in the season.  
  
However, he wasn’t the only one struggling: Otabek stood on the podium next to Yuri in Worlds, but it was his first medal of the season. Even though Otabek landed his jumps somewhat perfectly and skated to nice scores in every competition, Yuri could tell something was wrong with him. Nothing else in Otabek’s life seemed to be crooked - he smiled when he talked about his family and he joked around with his friends like usual - so Yuri didn’t ask him about it. Everyone has ups and downs every season, and for some the downs last a bit longer. The competition in men’s singles is tough (even now after the retirement of both Viktor and Katsuki), and Otabek had never wore his heart on his sleeve when he skated. The lack in Otabek’s presentation scores had been a real problem this season, and he was as aware of it as everyone else.  
  
Otabek puts an arm around Yuri’s waist and pulls him closer when they line up for drinks. The steady music vibrates the floor underneath their feet, and even though the club isn’t fully packed yet Yuri knows that after a couple of hours it will be. The dance floor’s wild lights create a colorful show on the club’s high ceiling, shadows bouncing off the walls and getting mixed with the hot, almost humid air around them. Otabek is supposed to play later that night, but before that they’re going to relax and let loose together without having to worry about scores, rankings or practice the next day.  
  
They make their way through the crowd and eventually manage to claim a table on the balcony. They can barely hear each other since the dance floor is right beneath them, but at least they will have a perfect view of the stage when it’s Otabek’s time to get behind the turntables.  
  
Yuri’s plane landed only a few hours ago, so he’s happy to just sit down on the wide couch paired with their table and sip on his drink while listening to the conversation between Otabek and his friends. Yuri understands most of it (he studied the language during long flights and in hotel rooms throughout the season, Otabek helping him whenever he could), but he’s too tired from all the travelling to say anything. Otabek is sitting right next to him, an arm around his shoulders, and that’s enough for now.  
  
Every now and then Otabek glances at him, as if to make sure he really is still there, and every time he does that Yuri presses a quick, lazy kiss on his lips.  
  
Yuri is fully aware they’re in a public place surrounded by dozens of people who could recognize them, but he has decided not to care. They had maintained their relationship through a tough competitive season, and to Yuri’s surprise it was Otabek who had said he wouldn’t mind people knowing about them. Most of their friends and family already knew: Viktor and Yuuri had walked in on them making out in the dressing room of Yuri’s home rink, which meant all of Yuri’s rinkmates (including his coaches) were informed before the two of them could do anything about it. Otabek had told his family soon after that, and later he revealed to Yuri that he had told his closest friends even before the incident with Viktor and Yuuri.  
  
But the public still didn’t know, and in a post-banquet talk after Worlds they had came to the conclusion that they would stop hiding it, and if someone asked, they’d be honest. Yuri has a feeling that’s easier to say than do, but right now he doesn’t care: he smiles against Otabek’s lips and lets him take his hand, telling himself he’s blushing because of the alcohol and not because Alina, one of Otabek’s friends, calls them _‘so damn adorable’_.  
  
It’s Alina who takes the place next to Yuri when Otabek has to get on the stage. Yuri sends him off with a kiss and gets a small smile in return, the sight of it making Yuri’s chest feel a tiny bit tighter.  
  
“It’s truly great to see Beka so happy,” Alina says after Otabek has disappeared behind the stage. “You’re good to him.”  
  
“He makes me happy,” Yuri confesses, hiding behind his glass. Alina smiles warmly at the words.  
  
“Beka has had his own struggles, you know. I’ve known him for a long time, and up until now I’ve felt like nothing but skating and making music could make him smile like that. You must be special,” she says with a teasing wink, and Yuri rolls his eyes at her. However, a part of him understands perfectly: for years Yuri felt like he was trapped in the middle of his negative emotions, getting crushed under everyone’s expectations, and he could only be free when he got on the ice. Nowadays being around people doesn’t make him so anxious, and controlling his anger off the ice is easier too.  
  
“I’m nothing special, just the World champion and Olympic gold medalist,” Yuri says with a shrug and Alina bursts out laughing.  
  
“Oh my god, I totally understand why Beka likes you so much. I really hope you can maintain your relationship now when he moves back to Canada.”  
  
Yuri feels his expression going blank, and at that moment the music in the club changes and Otabek gets on the stage behind the turntables. Yuri barely registers how he greets the crowd, a static buzzing filling his ears instead.  
  
Canada? What was Alina talking about? They didn’t have any plans for summer - they haven’t had enough time to talk about summer yet - but Otabek would have told him if he was moving all the way to Canada. Or at least Yuri thinks Otabek would tell him if he was going to move to another country.  
  
They had both been busy lately, and the last few months hadn’t been easy for Otabek, which had resulted in them not being able to spend a lot of time together. But Yuri had thought they could now take a couple weeks off and enjoy each other’s presence like they used to.  
  
Apparently that wasn’t something Otabek was planning to do.  
  
“Oh,” Yuri manages to force out, the piercing cold he feels in his lungs making it almost impossible to speak. He clears his throat and puts on an expression he learned to hide behind years ago: calm and distant with emotionless eyes. “He has talked to you guys about it?”  
  
“Yeah,” Alina sighs and takes a sip of her drink. “I mean, I got the impression he properly decided on it just last week or something? But he bought the plane tickets so I guess he has made up his mind. About time, if you ask me, considering he’s leaving in ten days.”  
  
Yuri gives her a small smile, and Alina doesn’t know him well enough to notice he’s faking it.  
  
“I guess,” Yuri says quietly, the booming music hiding his words. Alina isn’t really concentrating on their conversation, her eyes on Otabek who’s standing on the stage. Otabek’s eyes scan the audience and visit the balcony, looking for familiar faces. Yuri drops his gaze, his heart beating painfully in his hollow chest.  
  
Yuri stares blankly at the floor for the rest of Otabek’s set, the exciting high from alcohol transforming into a painful dullness. Yuri forces a smile on his face when Otabek gets back, but he doesn’t say anything. Throughout the years Yuri has learned to hide his true emotions behind a hard, emotionless facade, and he knows it’s better for everyone if he pretends for the rest of the night. He’s itching to talk to Otabek, to ask him what is going on, but at the same time he doesn’t want to have that conversation in the club surrounded by Otabek’s friends.  
  
“Do you want another drink?” Otabek’s familiar voice and nonchalant tone shoots right through Yuri like an arrow. He looks up and meets a dark pair of eyes he knows way too well; eyes that always calm him down and make him feel like home.  
  
Realizing that hurts.  
  
“I think I need some fresh air,” Yuri says, way too quickly for it to sound natural. Otabek doesn’t get a chance to say anything before Yuri is already on his feet and climbing down the staircase, disappearing into the crowd of people.  
  
The club has filled up in the past hour, and Yuri keeps bumping into people. His muttered apologies are half-hearted, and no one really pays attention to him when he gets to the club’s small outdoor area reserved for smoking, slamming the door shut behind himself. He leans against a metallic railing, warm from the day’s heat and sunshine, and tries to stop his hands from shaking.  
  
Yuri doesn’t smoke, has never even tried, but he almost asks for a cigarette from two guys standing in the corner of the outdoor area. In the end he says nothing, because he can’t remember how to ask something like that in Kazakh.  
  
Instead he takes out his phone and manages to type out a short text message.  
  
_To: JJ_  
_So Beka’s moving there?_  
  
_From: JJ_  
_Yeah! We’re gonna be rink mates again!_  
_It’s been too long since we’ve been training together!_  
_You could come here too! :D_  
  
_To: JJ_  
_I’ll skip, thanks._  
  
_From: JJ_  
_Why? :(_  
_I thought you had warmed up to me after all these years :(_  
  
_To: JJ_  
_So when did Beka tell you he’d move there?_  
  
_From: JJ_  
_When he started planning on it_  
_I think after the GPF_  
_Wait_  
_He has told you, right?_  
  
_To: JJ_  
_Not yet_  
  
_From: JJ_  
_What_  
_Wait Yuri_  
_Shit I thought he had talked to you about it_  
_Damn I’m so sorry_  
  
_To: JJ_  
_Fuck off, JJ_  
  
Yuri fights against the urge to throw his phone on the nearest wall. It’s not JJ’s fault he’s hurt and disappointed, but it feels good to put the blame on someone. Yuri’s mind is hazy, the realization that Otabek had been planning on this since December making anger bubble inside him.  
  
The thing is that Yuri actually thinks a total change of scenery, new training team and some skilled rinkmates to practice with is the best decision Otabek could make right now. Time difference between them would be a couple hours more, but they could deal with it together - they’ve been through worse. Yuri knows that if Otabek decides to do something, no one can stop him; and Yuri wouldn’t even try to stop Otabek if he suddenly told him he’s going to move to Canada to get better at skating.  
  
And apparently he had told everyone he’s going to do just that - everyone, except Yuri.  
  
“Yura?”  
  
Yuri is too deep in his thoughts to hear Otabek coming outside, and the sudden call of his name painfully pulls him back to reality. He turns to look at Otabek, and the worry in his dark eyes makes Yuri see red.  
  
“Were you ever gonna tell me?” The question makes Otabek frown, and Yuri’s sharp tone forces him to take half a step backwards. Yuri sees how he tries to hide the underlying fear in his gaze, and it only makes his anger take over him (because it _hurts_, it hurts so much, but Yuri isn’t going to admit that).  
  
“Wha-?”  
  
“About Canada.”  
  
A heavy silence falls between them. Yuri manages to hide his emotions behind an expressionless face, his cold eyes watching Otabek trying to come up with something to say. Yuri is impressed at how collected Otabek looks, his gaze locked with Yuri’s cold eyes.  
  
“Who told you?”  
  
“That doesn’t matter. Why didn’t _you_ tell me?” A hint of betrayal slips into Yuri’s words, and it hurts him to see how Otabek flinches at it.  
  
“I can explain.”  
  
“Then fucking explain.” Otabek lets out a wavering sigh, his eyes dropping to the ground. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, so he closes it. He runs a hand through his hair, fingertips shaking, helplessly trying to find the right words. Yuri can see he’s struggling, and it makes him feel sick.  
  
“I was afraid,” Otabek finally says after a silence that feels like an eternity.  
  
“Of what? Me?” Yuri’s tone sounds like he’s insulted, but actually he’s scared Otabek will confirm his accusations. He’s terrified that the person who helped him to lower his guard and find the softness hiding in his core would be _afraid_ of him.  
  
“Of what would happen to us,” Otabek’s voice is barely a whisper, and when Yuri’s mind finally processes the words, his body can’t tame the flame of anger.  
  
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Otabek still can’t look directly at Yuri. His breathing gets faster, panic and fear making their way into his eyes. Yuri feels like punching something and he looks away, trying to keep his voice from cracking when he repeats his question.  
  
“We wouldn’t see each other as often. Even if I wanted to be with you, I- the distance between Toronto and Saint Petersburg is long. Longer than what we have now.”  
  
“Did you really think I wouldn’t support you?” Otabek finally looks at Yuri, and the ice and thunder in Yuri’s emerald eyes cut deeper than his words.  
  
“I just didn’t know how to tell you.”  
  
“Saying _‘hey, I think I’m gonna move to Canada’_ isn’t that fucking hard. I mean, you told your friends and JJ, how am I any different?” The expression on Otabek’s face looks wounded, and Yuri needs to cross his arms over his chest so he doesn’t accidentally reach over and wipe the pain away with his fingertips. Seeing Otabek like that hurts, it hurts more than the fact that he had told everyone except Yuri about his plans; it hurts because Yuri knows it’s his fault Otabek looks like he’s crumbling.  
  
“You are different. If you left, it… it would kill me.”  
  
“You are the one leaving, not me,” Yuri says even though he knows that’s not what Otabek means. It’s not about being physically close, because that’s something they’re used to: between practicing in their own home rinks and travelling around the globe for different competitions they’re lucky if they get to share twelve hours together every now and then. They’ve accepted it, because they know there will always be more competitions, more post-banquet nights in fancy hotel rooms, more intensive training camps held by Yakov.  
  
“You know what I mean.” Yuri knows better than anyone what Otabek means, because he exists to his parents only after winning a competition; because years ago in Japan he skated a flawless program, yet Viktor still didn’t choose him; because before meeting Otabek he had always been everyone’s second choice, and that had made it impossible for him to trust anyone.  
  
Yuri knows exactly what Otabek means, and that only makes him more furious.  
  
“Is that really how much you trust me?” Yuri’s voice cracks at the end of the sentence, and he hates himself for it. He clears his throat but doesn’t look away, trying to find the answer to his question from Otabek’s sad eyes. He refuses to believe Otabek would think he’d choose someone else over him just because the distance between them got longer. He can’t believe it because he has told Otabek so, so many times how much he means to him.  
  
The way Otabek looks away and lets out a small, shuddering breath forces Yuri to believe it.  
  
“Yuri, I-”  
  
“You know what, I don’t wanna hear it,” Yuri spits out, swallowing tears. His chest feels uncomfortably tight and his lungs are heavy, and he’s barely holding himself together. It feels like the sharp pieces of his heart were cutting him open, tearing his carefully crafted facade apart. “I don’t even want to be here.”  
  
“We should lea-”  
  
“I don’t want to see your face anymore. I- I can’t take it.”  
  
_It_ being the tears gathered in the corners of Otabek’s eyes, and how looking at him makes Yuri still feel like he’s coming home; _it_ being all the unopened text messages JJ has sent him in the last five minutes, full of honest apologies; _it_ being his mind scolding him for being stupid and trusting someone, because when faced with a choice, no one would ever pick Yuri.  
  
Yuri kind of wants to kick the walls and yell at Otabek, maybe punch him hard once or twice - it’s not like he wouldn’t deserve it. In the back of his mind Yuri knows they need to talk this through, because if he leaves now his thoughts will eat him alive, Otabek will never get a chance to explain himself and things won’t get back to normal.  
  
So Yuri turns around, pretends he doesn’t hear Otabek calling his name when he leaves the club, and doesn’t even bother going back for his things before he gets on the next plane heading to Saint Petersburg.  
  


* * *

  
Summer is rough. Getting used to the time difference between Almaty and Toronto takes a toll on Otabek, lack of sleep making the first weeks of practice in a new rink tougher than he had anticipated. However, it’s not the first time he has moved to the other side of the world, and luckily he’s still familiar with Toronto: falling back into the routine he followed years ago comes back to him quickly without him really noticing.  
  
He’s not going to admit it, but JJ’s presence makes settling in easier. It’s refreshing to share the rink with someone on the same skill level, and JJ’s brutal honesty helps him get better at things he’s lacking in his skating. The atmosphere in their practices is always warm, and even though Mr and Mrs Leroy are demanding with their coaching, they immediately accepted Otabek into their skating family.  
  
Otabek practices hard, because he feels the need to show major improvement in the upcoming season. He knows that on top of perfecting the technical elements in his programs, he needs to focus on how to express himself better on the ice. So Otabek practices hard, occupying his mind with skating: his programs, technique, proper execution, the pieces of music he’s skating to.  
  
Because whenever his concentration falters, everything reminds him of Yuri.  
  
When someone with blonde hair jogs past him during his daily morning run, the tempo of his heart picks up until his chest hurts and he has to stop because he can’t breathe; sometimes he forgets his music on shuffle, and when a song he used to listen to with Yuri comes up he paralyzes, the masochist side of him welcoming the memories that flood in; every now and then even getting on the ice is painful because the rink is supposed to feel like home, and whenever Otabek thinks about home, his thoughts still go straight to Yuri.  
  
He’s happy he still has music and DJ-ing, and whenever his thoughts drive him insane or things don’t go as planned in the rink, he puts on his headphones and works on new pieces. A friend of his who he met online years ago plays in different clubs around Toronto, and sometimes Otabek joins him. He’s not playing as often as he used to, but when he does, it clears his mind and helps him focus on the goals he has set for himself.  
  
Often when he goes out to play with his friend, someone in the club tries to talk to him or flirt with him, but he dodges the attempts. JJ always tells him to loosen up and bring someone home with him for a night or two, and every time JJ says that, Otabek gives him a bored stare as a reply. Letting someone close absolutely terrifies him - even if it was just for one night and only in the physical sense of the word. Otabek doesn’t admit it, but the only person he has ever been interested in is Yuri.  
  
JJ tried to ask him about Yuri when he first came to Canada, but Otabek ignored him coldly - not because he doesn’t want to talk about what happened, but because he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say. JJ hasn’t brought the topic up since.  
  
They barely even talk about other skaters, focusing on perfecting their own programs for the upcoming season, until the assignments for Grand Prix come in. The first event for both of them will be Skate Canada, and after that JJ will skate in China and Otabek will travel to Russia.  
  
“Wanna watch Skate America together?” JJ asks, not bothering to really read through who will skate in the same events as him. It’s just how JJ is: it doesn’t matter who he’s against, because he’s confident he won’t lose to them.  
  
“Sure,” Otabek mumbles. He watches JJ take off his blade guards and get on the ice, rolling his shoulders. They’re about to start their early morning practice, and Nathalie Leroy is sitting at the rinkside, a steaming hot cup of coffee next to her on the bench.  
  
“You think you’ll be okay?” JJ says, his tone almost soft, and Otabek frowns. He takes another look on the assignments, sighs and gives an annoyed look to his rinkmate.  
  
“I’ll be fine.”  
  
It’s not like he hasn’t seen Yuri’s face since they parted ways, because for some reason Yuri hasn’t blocked him on any social media platforms. Otabek doesn’t leave likes or comments under Yuri’s posts anymore, but he can’t make himself unfollow Yuri either. Overall Yuri updates his social media less frequently than he used to, and nowadays his Instagram pictures are strictly about skating and nothing else: video clips of him practicing his jumps (sometimes succeeding, sometimes falling and cursing loudly), gym selfies, shots promoting his official sponsors.  
  
Yuri even made it to gossip sites’ headlines when he caught a scandal a couple of months back (actually it’s not really a scandal, or even a big deal, but Yuri’s more than passionate fans like to go overboard). During the last days of June Yuri uploaded a picture with Viktor and Yuuri on Instagram, the caption stating he’s getting some extra training in Japan. Later that week someone spotted him in a local gay bar, and people went crazy. Otabek read every single stupid article written about the topic, but Yuri himself never commented on the subject. He didn’t update his social media for a week, and when he eventually did post something, his Angels were so delighted to hear from him again they didn’t ask questions.  
  
Everything summed up just made Otabek feel like Yuri didn’t just cut him off his life, but also decided to hide his real self from everyone.  
  
So seeing Yuri’s name on JJ’s laptop screen during the live stream of Skate America doesn’t make Otabek feel anything special. He’s doing just fine until the second warm-up group of men gets on the ice and the skaters are introduced to the audience. When it’s his turn, Yuri waves to his fans, but his expression stays serious. He has his hair tied up, and the gaze of his sharp eyes seems more piercing than ever before.  
  
“He looks a bit sick,” JJ says after a moment of silence, and Otabek agrees. Yuri looks pale compared to the other competitors, and although he has always been skinny, he looks almost fragile in his simple, full-black costume.  
  
“He’s probably just nervous,” Otabek says, trying to sound like he doesn’t care. JJ looks at him, and for once he says nothing. After a short moment he simply shrugs and turns his attention back to the laptop screen. Otabek lets out a silent, relieved sigh JJ doesn’t hear.  
  
Yuri skates third from the second group, and even though his music choice - an extract from _Moonlight Sonata_’s 3rd movement - is accompanied with powerful, fast-paced skating, he finishes his program with just a few small mistakes. Even JJ and Otabek are surprised at how well Yuri skates, maintaining his natural fragility without falling behind the intense music.  
  
Yuri looks exhausted when he gets off the ice, and he doesn’t smile even when he gets a high score. The audience is loud, but Otabek thinks he hears Yuri say “I can do better than that” before the stream leaves the Kiss and Cry and focuses on the next skater getting ready for his performance in the rink.  
  
When the men’s short program ends, Otabek pretends to be alright. He goes to practice with JJ and manages to land a difficult combination he’s been working on for a while. JJ invites him over for a game night, but Otabek declines the offer, telling JJ he’s been sleeping quite badly lately and wants to catch up on sleep.  
  
He’s not really lying, because he hasn’t slept well in months. Every night when Otabek goes to bed and closes his eyes, his thoughts of Yuri get louder than during the day. Otabek can’t push Yuri out of his head without distractions like skating and music, so he ends up hitting the nearby 24/7 gym at midnight or working on his laptop until he passes out an hour before his alarm goes off.  
  
Deep down Otabek knows he needs help, but a part of him is terrified of letting go. He still loves Yuri - has loved him unconditionally for years - and he’s painfully aware of how much he hurt him. Otabek made poor decisions and let his fears control his actions, and he thinks that’s why he deserves to suffer now.  
  
Yuri wins Skate America after skating a nearly-perfect free program on _Schindler’s List_, and Otabek is reminded of the moment he told Yuri he’d fit the song perfectly. They were laying in Yuri’s bed in Saint Petersburg, and Yuri laughed at the suggestion and said his skating isn’t yet emotional enough for the song.  
  
Yuri’s eyes look empty when he forces on a smile during the medal ceremony, and that’s when Otabek decides to talk to him when they’ll inevitably meet in Rostelecom Cup.  
  


* * *

  
Otabek never gets a chance to act on his grand plan of pulling Yuri aside and saying something to him during Rostelecom Cup. In Skate Canada Otabek skated well enough to get on the podium, yet he feels the need to show everyone that changing coaching teams really helped him improve. Skating against the best Russian skaters on their home ice would be a terrifying experience to anyone, and on top of all that Otabek’s heart shatters once more when he sees Yuri in the first official practice.  
  
When Yuri gets on the ice, his black practice wear makes him look paler than he actually is. There are dark circles under his eyes but he nails his elements without showing any signs of exhaustion. Lilia seems to be lecturing him when he returns to the rinkside after a run-through of his short program, and Yuri has a look on his face that tells Otabek he’s doing everything but listening to her.  
  
Otabek catches himself thinking how he’s happy that Yuri hasn’t changed despite everything, when in reality he _has_ changed. The changes in him are small and delicate, like how he avoids eye-contact with his coaches, or looks incredibly angry with himself when his quad turns into a triple near the end of the practice. There are shadows on his face, and because Otabek knows Yuri lives and breathes skating - it’s something that has saved him from self-destruction so many times - it hurts to watch how Yuri’s tense shoulders relax when he steps out of the rink and pulls on a black hoodie.  
  
In the end Yuri finishes second in Rostelecom, right behind a younger rinkmate of his. Otabek manages to climb to the fourth place, and although he’s not completely satisfied with his own performance, he qualifies for the final and that makes him determined.  
  
When Otabek returns to Canada he tries not to think about how he didn’t see Yuri smile once during the competition.  
  


* * *

  
JJ makes it to the Grand Prix final as well, and Otabek is thoroughly relieved he won’t have to face Yuri alone (or, face the fact he simply doesn’t seem to exist to Yuri anymore). The competition is tough - something both of them already knew from the qualification rounds - and when JJ finishes third in the short program behind Yuri and his young rinkmate, he’s so pissed off Otabek ends up spending the night in his hotel room watching extremely boring romantic comedies with him.  
  
JJ doesn’t like romantic comedies, but whenever he has to sort through his thoughts, he puts on romantic comedies. Otabek thinks it’s a weird habit, but he’s not courageous enough to question a pissed off JJ. Also, it seems the terrible movies somehow channel his energy and make him skate better the next day (or make his opponents skate worse, depending on how you want to look at it).  
  
So Otabek isn’t surprised when Yuri’s young rinkmate has a disastrous free skate. He skates first, and maybe the pressure of the Grand Prix final gets to him on the worst possible moment. After all, he’s only sixteen, it’s his senior debut season, and he’s skating against Olympic medalists and World champions.  
  
Otabek feels bad for the boy, even when JJ reminds him that now they both have a chance to get on the podium.  
  
Otabek skates second from the group, and it takes his full concentration to shake off the negative energy the young Russian left in the rink. However, when his music starts, all he can hear are the notes, and his body follows the melody easily. The audience and the presence of the judges disappear, and for four minutes it’s just Otabek, the ice and the piece of music he has heard hundreds of times.  
  
He gets a season’s best and easily takes the bronze. JJ does his everything on the ice, but when Yuri finishes his program, it’s clear JJ has no chances for the gold. Otabek tries to cheer him up by telling him that it’s only the beginning of the season, and they have at least two major competitions ahead of them. By the time the medal ceremony starts JJ is back to his confident, joyful self.  
  
Otabek is already standing on the podium when he realizes who’s going to share it with him.  
  
It’s part of the etiquette that the medalists greet each other in good nature and pose together for press photos. Otabek is familiar with the procedure, but he didn’t think he’d stand a chance to even get on the podium, so he didn’t worry about it. He feels like someone had pushed him in icy water without a warning: his pulse picks up, his vision gets blurry, and for a second it’s hard to breathe.  
  
Then JJ is there, standing in front of him, and pulling him into a protocol-required hug.  
  
“Everything alright?” he asks, voice low and full of worry. Otabek can’t get anything out of his mouth, so he just nods and forces a small smile on his face. It’s obvious from the look JJ gives him that Otabek isn’t fooling him, but there’s nothing either of them can do about it.  
  
When they announce his name and Yuri gets on the ice, he looks captivating. He has let his hair down, and it looks like a halo around him under the bright spotlights. He flashes a short smile to the audience, and the sight of it tugs at Otabek’s heart, a painful hollowness spreading from his chest and taking over him when Yuri gets closer to the podium.  
  
Otabek can’t help holding his breath when Yuri hugs him. A familiar smell of hairspray, citrus-scented shampoo and _Yuri_ wraps around him, and Otabek has to blink a couple of times to keep himself from crying. He wants to say something, but his body and mind won’t cooperate quickly enough. Yuri refuses to meet his eyes when they part, and Otabek notices how his hands shake when he goes over to JJ.  
  
They stand in thousands of photographs, uneasy smiles on their lips and tension in their shoulders; they’re close enough to touch, but they won’t. In reality Yuri is _right there_, but to Otabek he’s further away than he’s ever been.  
  
When Otabek gets back to his hotel room, he cries for the first time in months.  
  


* * *

  
Two weeks before European Championships Yuri updates his Instagram with a video of him cleanly landing a triple axel - quad toe - triple toe combination. Otabek is in the middle of practice when the video goes up, yet he still doesn’t miss it.  
  
“Holy fuck!” JJ screeches from the other side of the rink, totally messing up Otabek’s rhythm. His quad turns into a double, and he barely saves the landing. He’s lucky JJ is busy staring at his phone and doesn’t see him struggling.  
  
JJ signals him closer, and when Otabek gets to the other end of the rink, JJ shoves his phone into Otabek’s hand without saying anything.  
  
The video is short, shot in the main rink of Sports Champions ice hall. The expression on Yuri’s face is concentrated as he leaps into the axel, then straight into the quad and triple toeloops, his aerial rotations as quick as always. On the same second he finishes the combination the video becomes shaky as Mila curses loudly in Russian from behind the camera, not able to contain her excitement.  
  
Otabek re-watches the video at least five times, and when Yuri lands the jump for the sixth time on JJ’s phone screen, JJ yanks the device away.  
  
“We’re doomed,” he says, closing the app. “We’re _fucked_ if he lands that in Euros and then in Worlds. There’s like, no point in even trying to beat him anymore.”  
  
“He’s been working on that combination for a long time now,” Otabek reveals. JJ blinks, his brows shooting up in question.  
  
“He has?”  
  
“Over a year, I think. He used to have problems with getting all the rotations in,” Otabek says, his voice getting gradually quieter towards the end of his sentence. The memory of Yuri practicing the jump over and over again for hours until Otabek interfered and physically dragged him out of the rink burns in Otabek’s mind. The fact that it happened more than once hurts, mostly because Otabek suspects no one has really looked after Yuri in the past months (probably not even Yuri himself).  
  
Yuri lands the combination in Euros, and Otabek wins Four Continents (and when he and JJ stand on the podium next to each other, instead of being disappointed in himself for falling on his very last jump, JJ is beaming with pride).  
  


* * *

  
When Otabek saw Yuri Plisetsky skate for the first time, he immediately understood what people meant when they told him figure skating isn’t just a sport, but also an art form. Even after years of watching Yuri on the ice, his skating still draws Otabek in and mesmerizes him: how he can look fragile during a choreographic sequence and then show immense strength right after, landing a combination of jumps flawlessly. Yuri never forgets to pay attention to the details in his programs, movement travelling through his body all the way to his fingertips. He makes every jump, every spin and every element requiring flexibility look effortless, and the way he moves on the ice is hypnotizing.  
  
Yet his eyes are always burning with determination: full of need to do _better_, to exceed everyone’s expectations and show his worth.  
  
For the first time in what feels like centuries Otabek meets those eyes during the men’s free program in World Championships. He’s supposed to get on the ice after Yuri, tune out the cheers and applause, and skate just like he did in Four Continents (and Otabek will do that, he knows he can do that - he’s proven himself many times this season, and he’s finally fully confident in himself, even if he has to skate right after the reigning World champion. The fight for the podium positions is ruthless, the top six almost tied in points after the short program, and although it makes the competition more exciting, Otabek would rather skate without all the added pressure.)  
  
Yuri spares a small smile to the audience that has gone wild, picking up a tiny tiger plushie on his way out of the rink. He straightens his back and instead of looking for his coach’s comforting, proud gaze, Yuri finds Otabek’s eyes. Otabek braces himself for ice-cold daggers and anger that spreads around his neck and chokes him, but what he sees is just emptiness swimming in specks of emerald.  
  
The moment lasts less than a second, Yuri looking away quickly. The usual toughness has found its way back in his eyes when he leaves the Kiss and Cry but stays behind, hiding in the shadows of the stands and watching Otabek skate a great program. Otabek is too focused on his own performance to notice him, and when he leaves the ice, Yuri has already disappeared.  
  
Otabek is exhausted when he finally gets off the ice, the weight of the season settling on his shoulders while he waits for his points. He hasn’t yet fully comprehended that it’s the World Championships and that he just finished his last official skate of the season, because when he thinks back on the months of training and competitions, he only seems to remember the sleepless nights, the hollowness of his chest, and how sorrow seeps into Yuri’s features every time he thinks no one is looking.  
  
It hurts to watch how Yuri struggles in front of everyone through the medal ceremony and gala practice, yet no one seems to notice: he’s present but still isn’t, somehow. The press ask for pictures and he gives them a smile that won’t reach his eyes, and he learns the ridiculously easy group number choreography without a single complaint (in fact, when Otabek really thinks about it, he’s not sure when was the last time he actually heard Yuri say anything). Otabek knows Yuri speaks through skating, conveys his feelings through it even when he hides behind a mask or a role, because that’s what he learned to do as a child.  
  
Yuri skates his exhibition number on Ciara’s cover of _Paint It, Black_, which is a very Yuri-like piece. It follows the same melancholic theme as his competition programs with graceful spins and beautifully flowing step sequences, but it’s full of raw emotions the others lack: anger, boldness, pain. Otabek has seen Yuri skate the program many times in the past season, and it never ceases to shake him to the core.  
  
Maybe because something in the program hits a bit too close to home (aggression, ice-cold eyes and Yuri’s serious expression that doesn’t change even after the music has stopped). Otabek won’t admit it, just like he won’t say aloud how much he still enjoys watching Yuri skate despite it filling his chest with longing that hurts more than anything else he has ever experienced.  
  
Otabek wants to think he has improved tremendously in a year, that he’s become stronger mentally and physically. He tries to convince himself that all the new personal bests, all the medals and podium positions mean he’s actually better off _without_ Yuri.  
  
The thought ties a knot in his stomach and narrows his windpipe just enough to make him struggle, yet when they line up in front of a cheering audience at the end of the gala and out of the blue Yuri comes to stand next to him, Otabek feels like drowning instead of breathing freely. He freezes, terrified that his inner panic can be seen all over his face.  
  
“Can we talk after this?”  
  
The hall is loud, the audience screaming around them, and for a brief moment Otabek is sure he imagined Yuri talking to him. He glances at his side, and although Yuri isn’t looking at him, the question is written in his tense shoulders and empty eyes fixed on the faceless crowd.  
  
Otabek lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Yeah.”  
  
\----  
  
The sun is already setting when Otabek gets out of the ice hall’s back door, his leather jacket hardly keeping him warm against the chilly spring breeze. Yuri is already waiting for him, leaning against a safety railing surrounding the arena. He has pulled a black hoodie over his gala outfit, and the decorative glitter on the outer corners of his eyes glimmer in the orange light.  
  
It’s suddenly very, very silent around them. Otabek grew up in a home that was never quiet, and he learned to hate silences like this. He has at least a million things he wants to say, but nothing comes out; he can’t decide where he should start.  
  
“I’m sorry I just left back then.”  
  
“I don’t think you should be the one apologizing here.”  
  
Yuri lets out a short sigh that has a hint of amusement in it. “I totally agree. But let’s be real, me fleeing out of the fucking country was just a little bit overdramatic. I should’ve let you explain yourself.”  
  
“I think I would’ve reacted the exact same way,” Otabek says with a shrug. He sees from the corner of his eye how Yuri turns to look at him, but he’s too afraid to meet the questioning gaze. “I mean, what I did was just… a total dick move. Honestly, you had all the reasons to be angry.”  
  
“I was angry. I _am_ angry.”  
  
“I don’t blame you for that,” Otabek says, his voice quieter than he wants. He gathers the remains of his courage and meets Yuri’s eyes, welcoming the familiarity of them. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you about my plans of moving to Canada, and I’m sorry you had to find out about it like you did. There’s really no excuses for what I did, and I’m sorry I hurt you.”  
  
For some reason Otabek feels more exhausted than he did after his free skate last night. His heart is hammering painfully against his chest, and the slight, almost sad frown on Yuri’s face makes him feel worse.  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yuri’s voice is now quiet too, but there are no sharp edges in his words.  
  
“I was afraid you’d leave me,” Otabek says. It’s what he told Yuri months ago when he asked the same question for the first time, and it’s the truth.  
  
“But I _did_ leave you.”  
  
“Yeah, you did.”  
  
It’s Yuri who looks away first, biting the inside of his lip. He doesn’t say anything for a long time and Otabek doesn’t want to pressure him, not even when he draws in a shuddering breath and wipes a lone tear on the sleeve of his hoodie, visibly annoyed with himself.  
  
“You know, I said I was angry, but most of the time I wasn’t sure was I angry at you or at myself for thinking I actually meant something to someone. I was really hurt because I felt like I wasn’t enough, just like I wasn’t enough for Viktor and my parents. And I kinda pushed everyone away and put my walls up, until…”  
  
Otabek watches determination setting in Yuri’s eyes as he fights against tears, his hands curled into fists. He looks more pissed off than anything else, muttering a frustrated curse under his breath, and Otabek wants to pull him against his chest and tell him it’s okay to cry. But he doesn’t do that because he knows Yuri hates showing weakness in front of anyone, and especially in front of him.  
  
“Until, after GPF, grandpa was diagnosed with cancer. It’s not super aggressive or anything, but he’s not that young anymore.”  
  
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Otabek says, worry in his tone. He takes a step closer, his fingertips brushing against the back of Yuri’s hand before he stops himself. He knows Yuri notices the brief touch when a sad, almost tired smile visits his lips. He keeps his eyes forward, careful not to look at Otabek, and when he pulls up the hood of his shirt and slips his hands into its pockets to shield himself from the wind (from the cold, from Otabek’s sharp eyes, from the world), he looks a lot younger than he is.  
  
“He’s doing better for now, but he’s not getting any younger for sure. When he got the diagnosis, I was ready to skip Euros and move to Moscow to be with him, but he told me he’d be happier to see me skate, because that makes _me_ happy. So I stayed in Saint Petersburg and did nothing but skate and think about you.”  
  
Suddenly it feels like they’re 15 and 18 again, standing on a terrace in Park Guell, still learning how to trust someone. They’re as broken, as lost and misunderstood like they were when they met, fighting through each day. Otabek wants to think some things have changed since then - that now they at least have each other - but the truth is they’ve been both fraying at the edges because of each other.  
  
Back then Yuri learned to trust a person who saw past his carefully crafted facades and considered them equal, and Otabek learned to trust a person who wanted to learn more about him and was undeterred by his stoic appearance. The bond they built between them was something unique, standing on a foundation of unconditional, mutual love, and losing that made it hard for both of them to hold themselves together.  
  
“Why me?” Otabek asks, hiding his surprise under an amused tone.  
  
“What grandpa said made me realize how important it is to have happiness in your life. And I just kept thinking how fucking happy I was because of you, how my life got so much more enjoyable after I met you. And then I threw all that away over something so trivial, letting my anger drive me like I was a damn teenager.” Yuri shakes his head in disbelief, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “I’m an idiot.”  
  
“We both are,” Otabek states, although he wants to add he doesn’t think it’s stupid of Yuri to fall back into behavior he used so he’d survive his teenage years filled with high expectations and belittlement. It’s definitely not stupid of Yuri to act like a child every now and then, because he never got a proper childhood.  
  
“Touché.”  
  
“Yuri, I…,” Otabek starts, trying to hide the waver in his voice. Yuri’s name feels foreign on his tongue, like he was saying it for the very first time, and even though Yuri notices this, he lets Otabek gather himself without saying anything. Their eyes meet, and instead of freezing cold emptiness, Otabek sees warmth in the midst of green and blue. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I was an asshole, but I hope you can accept my apology some day. And if… if it’s okay with you, I’d like to start over.”  
  
“What are you planning to do? Save me heroically from my crazy fans or come to Yakov’s summer camp and stalk me?” Otabek hears rather than sees the laughter in Yuri’s voice, it making a smirk climb on his lips. The amusement in Yuri’s features makes Otabek’s chest tighten, and it’s a pleasant feeling.  
  
It feels comforting and familiar, like coming home after a long day.  
  
“Maybe I’ll invite you to skate with me in my home rink this summer. As a friend, not as a bitter silver medalist who swears to take your title next year,” Otabek says with a joking tone, watching how challenge sparks in Yuri’s eyes. He’s only half-serious, but he can’t deny how excited he gets from the look Yuri gives to him: excited for summer, excited for the next season, excited for them.  
  
He offers his hand to Yuri who ignores it, hugging Otabek instead. It’s sudden, and Otabek’s body reacts before his mind does: he wraps his arms tightly around Yuri, remembering all the quick, icy and awkward hugs they’ve shared during medal ceremonies in the past months. He welcomes the scent of citrus shampoo and pulls Yuri closer when he hides his tears into Otabek’s leather jacket.  
  
“You can take it. If I can just be with you, I’ll be happy.”

**Author's Note:**

> The pieces of music mentioned in this story:  
[Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, 3rd Movement](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BV7RkEL6oRc)  
[Theme from Schindler's List](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XNSsv86lsok) and [Yulia Lipnitskaya's beautiful program to it](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ke0iusvydl8&t) that 100% inspired me  
[Paint It, Black by Ciara](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RYPWxymohWs)
> 
> [read this on tumblr](https://avaruussade.tumblr.com/post/187239986131/fraying-at-the-edges) | [my twitter](https://twitter.com/avaruussade)


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